Tour Bus & Bunk Beds
by Porkchop Sandwiches
Summary: She was fairly preoccupied by how toasty he felt and how his shoulders were against her shoulders and how seeing his face on practically everyone's body for over a month should have signaled a lot more to her than just missing a friend. Was a one-shot, now continued. Set after "Road Trips & Reunions."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Apparently I really like to write about sleepy people and sleepy people doing weird things while sleepy. This takes place sometime after "Road Trips & Reunions." Please read and review :)**

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Eating an entire plate of Dez's extra spicy nachos while watching the new Zalien movie was one of the worst decisions Ally had made within a five-day whirl of wrong airports, twirling security guards around Sonic Boom, and an accidental bus swap with a girl scout. Because at three in the morning after her fifth day on the Full Moon Tour, Ally was positive a bulbous-headed monster was lurking around the Minneapolis rest stop, fully ready to slurp down her brain faster than Austin could devour a stack of pancakes.

Ally was aware if she'd told herself yesterday that a silly Zalien movie would spawn a terrifying nightmare and late night panic attack, she would have rolled her eyes even harder than when Dez asked if anyone wanted to join him in signing _Wheels on the Bus _for two hours straight. But the naïve yesterday version of Ally didn't know the Zalien movies had become so popular that a new director decided to reboot them, starting with a not-at-all campy origin story that had enough gurgling gore to fill her locker forty times over. The film also featured dozens of exploding skulls, several eyes ripped from blood sputtering sockets, and a scene with a pair of pliers and someone's opened mouth that made Ally never want to think about her dentist ever again.

Instead, she tried to focus on the securely locked tour bus door and her three best friends within earshot. Oh yeah, and there was that whole thing about zombie-alien hybrids definitely not existing.

Shifting the back of her head deeper into her pillow, she regretted decorating the bottom of Trish's bed with glow-in-the-dark star stickers. The green fluorescent tint only reminded her of gangly long fingers and maybe how at one part in her dream she had grabbed a pair of them and spun around a Zalien who had Austin's face below a pair of giant fly eyes. She pulled her covers closer to her chest and wished for sunlight.

Just when the idea of drifting off again seemed like a possibility, she heard footsteps. A soft _whoosh_ felt like the clear announcement of some impending horrific dental work until she made out the shape of a groggy Austin opening the curtains and lumbering into her bunk. The thought of shooing Austin away didn't register until he'd slid underneath the blankets and plopped on top of her in a warm mass of flannel pajama pants and the faint smell of Axe Body Spray. Yes, having him so close after not seeing him for a month and a half was endearing, and cute, and a little hot in a way she didn't feel comfortable pondering. However, suffocating was kind of putting a damper on this whole embrace situation.

With her face squished against his collarbone, she desperately tried to wriggle around before freeing her left hand. She tapped his arm. When she didn't get a response, she gently pinched his bicep.

Austin shot up with a loud jagged inhale as his head slammed into her carefully constructed Big Dipper constellation. Groaning, he seemed to stare at her for a second. "Ally? Why are you in my bed? You are Ally, right? Please tell me you're Ally and we're still in North Dakota and I'm not in the middle of a misunderstood sex scandal after wandering into some random girl's bed. I mean, who is the interior designer making all of these identical tour bus bunk beds anyway?"

She smiled. "Austin, you're in my bed. We're actually in Minnesota. And, yes, I am Ally."

He sighed, though made no motion to move from his half-sitting, half-hovering posture. "When we get back to Miami I really need to spend like an hour looking at a map of the U.S. It's starting to get a little embarrassing. I'm like one slip away from one of those dumb American famous people quotes just ready to go viral."

"Like when Britney Spears said Japan was in Africa?" Ally laughed.

He chuckled. "Yeah, or when she thought London and England were two separate countries."

"I promise if you start walking into gas station bathrooms barefoot or attacking paparazzi with umbrellas, I'll let you know you're turning into Britney." She ruffled his hair playfully. "Also, I'll stop you from shaving your head."

"Thanks," he said.

Something about how heartfelt his voice sounded broke Ally into muffled hysteric giggles that only stopped when she heard one of the top bunks scrape with someone's weight. Her eyes had adjusted to the once inky darkness of the tour bus, and she could see Austin freeze with his jaw tight.

He leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, "Do you think Dez or Trish just woke up?"

"Well, considering I haven't acquired x-ray vision in the past four or so hours since we last talked, I honestly have no idea."

"But, what if they are?" He sounded panicked.

She was fairly preoccupied by how toasty he felt and how his shoulders were against her shoulders and how seeing his face on practically everyone's body for over a month should have signaled a lot more to her than just missing a friend.

He nudged her cheek with his nose. "Ally? Did you fall asleep?"

"No," she whispered.

She wasn't sure if it was on purpose, but they're faces seemed to get even closer. "I was going to go back to my bed. But, if one of them is awake, that would look really bad right now."

His body heat was seriously starting to melt her brain into a mere shell of Zalien goo, and in her peaceful sleepiness, she realized mid-pucker that she was kissing the side of his jaw. It took everything she had to make herself stop.

"Ally, am I hallucinating or were you just kissing me? Also, are your hands up my shirt?"

Her palms stilled against his chest as she gaped like an idiot. "No," she said. Although, she pronounced it by drawing the vowel out as awkwardly as possible.

"No, I wasn't hallucinating? Or, no, you're hands aren't currently feeling me up?"

With the intention of moving said hands to an appropriate place, she slid them down to remove them from underneath his v-neck, only to become distracted by the contours of his abs and the tiny, pleasant noise he made. "I'm going to go with 'no comment' for both of those questions."

"Cool," he said. His voice was strained. "Just to warn you, I'm not about to kiss you either."

Austin's mouth was on her neck, tentative at first until playing a sluggish game of hopscotch to the corner of her lips. He may have only shifted a fraction of inch, but it was practically as different as being in Washington, D.C. and Washington State. His tongue deepened their kiss, and she sighed against his mouth.

One of the overhead mattresses creaked again, and it split them apart. Breathing heavily, Austin slid down next to her as she rested her head against his t-shirt. Ally slightly adjusted so her neck didn't hurt as she felt him kiss the top of her head. Closing her eyes, she heard another faint _swoosh_ of the curtains opening.

Trish in rumpled head-to-toe leopard print polyester pj's glared beneath a bejeweled eye mask. "Holy Crunchkins, can you two keep your love-making noises down to a minimum? Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Trish, we weren't. I mean," Ally said. She wasn't sure how she should explain this.

Trish waved her hand. "I don't care. At noon, I'll want a play-by-play that'll make _Cosmo _readers blush. Right now, I need to work on that 12 hours of sleep we all know I need." She yanked the curtains closed before climbing back into her bed.

Austin was shaking his head, looking both petrified and exhausted at the same time. He exhaled deeply from his nose and opened his mouth.

"Shut it," Trish said.

Ally shot him a resigned smile and offered him more of her blanket. When he seemed comfortable, she shut her eyes. The last thing Ally heard before knocking out was Dez's fond murmur of, "Mmm, Crunchkins."


	2. Shower Stalls & Thorny Devils

**A/N: So, I decided to continue this story. This chapter follows after the events of the first, but I'm not sure if I'll keep doing that or not. Thank you for all of your reviews! And yes, they're sleepy again. I have problems. Please read and review :)**

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Ally wished the blue and pink lights flashing into the tour bus windows were generated by a patrol car scanning this seedy Las Vegas motel parking lot where they were expected to sleep for the night. While she'd never been to Nevada before, she was pretty sure law enforcement vehicles weren't likely to play a dubstep remix of "It's Raining Men" at two in the morning with the bass vibrating the entire bus like it was in the beginning stages of being beamed up into a hovering Zalien spacecraft. Covering her ears with her last clean pair of socks, Ally tried to think of any logical reason for how they'd ended up parked between what looked like a negative four star motel and Thorny Devil_s, _a male strip club.

She plopped her forehead down against the kitchenette table and hoped the stickiness at her hairline was just egg yolk from Dez's failed attempt at breakfast.

"It's official," Trish said. She melodramatically smacked the table. "I am firing Jimmy Star!"

"Yeah? You and what unicorn army?" Dez's voice sounded like he was still on the couch, though Ally wasn't sure with her eyes closed.

Trish slapped down her other hand. "Ginger Brain Man, why don't you just shut your frosting mouth before anything else stupid comes out of it?"

Ally raised her head, squinting.

Austin was standing next to Ally with both arms out like a crossing guard. "You guys, let's not let a little bit of sleep loss make us turn on each other. I think this parking lot has seen enough homicide as is."

Trish scoffed. "A little bit of sleep loss? Austin, we were up at four A.M. for back-to-back morning show interviews, then a press conference, then a meet and greet with fans, dance rehearsals, sound check, and a concert with two encores. Then we spent two and a half hours finding this craphole, deciding not to stay here, and discovering all the nearby hotels are either too expensive or are apparently filled with gamblers and hordes of your four-foot, lip-glossed, clothes-tearing tween demon fans."

Ally nodded drowsily, her make-shift and inefficient sock sound-blockers abandoned. She propped an elbow on the table and rested her cheek against her fist. "So much sparkly Lip Smackers. I felt like I was in a seventh grade slumber party."

Dez snuggled into the couch cushions. "Weren't those the best slumber parties though? Staying up all night, telling secrets, eating an entire roll of raw double fudge chunk cookie dough, fighting over whether to watch _Mean Girls _or _Pretty Woman _first, avocado face scrubs and those tiny, little foamy things that separate all your toes when you get a pedicure."

Austin pursed his lips. "I don't think I did any of that stuff at sleepovers, which is what I call them, because I'm a man."

Dez shrugged. "I happen to have a sister. It's not like I've asked for a pedicure or something, they just happen between making seven layer bean dips and hearing Hillary explain how much she hates wearing baggy shorts in gym glass. It's like a natural event of the night. Not all of us can sling around tractor tires and roll around in the mud and yell on rooftops."

"Is that your idea of what men do?" Trish massaged her left temple. "Forget it. As I was saying, after being nearly trampled to death by 'adoring' fans, we drove back here. I know we're like eight blocks from the next show, but I seriously doubt Jimmy had any idea of what this place looked like when he made the suggestion. I got fleas from just glancing at that motel."

Ally listlessly played with the ends of her hair. "I am so tired."

"Ally, are you alright?" Austin's hand was warm on her back. "You look pale, like paler than normal."

She rolled her eyes. "Just because I live in sunscreen, doesn't mean you can make fun of my albino, skin cancer-free pigmentation."

Dez jolted up from his lounging position on the couch. "Ally has an albino pig? Ooh, what's his name?"

"Dez!" Trish glared.

"Sorry." He raised his hands in apology. "What's _her_ name? I am all up for equal rights for all swine no matter their gender."

Trish was in the middle of angrily gaping when another burst of female shrieks filled the bus along with the sound of congas, synthesizers, and some sort of lyrics about Africa.

Ally grumbled into her palm. "It's bad enough Jimmy has us zigzagging across the country with no concern for conserving gas. I mean, who books the first show of a tour in Philadelphia when you start in Florida? Not to mention you went from Chicago to Portland, literally across the country. And now our new neighbors are sleazy, scantily dressed male dancers."

Austin frowned from his new seat on the couch. "What makes them so sleazy?"

Ally's mind had wandered to different varieties of breakfast burritos. "What makes who so sleazy?"

"The dancers in the club. They're just guys performing for a bunch of screaming girls. They have wardrobe changes and choreography and sometimes the audience gets a little handsy. What makes them so much different from me?"

"Uh, well, let me think." She furrowed her brow in faux concentration. "You sing, you don't take your clothes off, and, not to make assumptions about the surely classy establishment of _Thorny Devils_, which is named after a desert lizard native of Australia, which moves along the sand like a leaf and has a tail…."

Trish rattled the blinds next to her. "Ally! Make a point before every single neon bulb in Vegas consecutively burns out!"

"Right, sorry." She tried to blink her concentration back into her skull, but she swore her eyelids were collecting desert sand. "As I was saying, you're not going around giving any private, one-on-one dances."

"That's ridiculous. I can't even count how many times we've both been in the practice room or my bedroom or your bedroom at who knows what time in the morning, and you ask me to dance to help you come up with lyrics. We even reenacted the lifting over the head, shirtless scene from _Dirty Dancing_." He nodded, appearing pleased at making a point, paused, then looked petrified.

Ally could feel a blush creeping up the back of her neck like a color-changing thorny devil. It didn't help when Trish and Dez managed to simultaneously "Oooooh!" as if they'd suddenly morphed into a pair of seventh grade girls.

And just like that time in the seventh grade when Ally spilled chocolate milk down the front of her white jeans, she stood up and announced, "I have to go to the bathroom."

Fifteen frantic steps and two closed doors later, she was hiding in the shower, sure that Trish had conjured up some mental image of Ally instructing Austin to dance around like her personal cabana boy. She wasn't even sure if dancing was technically in a cabana boy's job description. What the heck was a cabana boy anyway? She couldn't think.

Aside from wanting to escape humiliation, she'd thought the bathroom might be a little calmer than the main area of the bus. Unfortunately, the heavy use of metal in the room seemed to absorb even more of the throbbing _wub wub wub_ of the music.

After about five minutes or so of contemplating sleeping standing up and maybe having a brief image of Austin in nothing but leather chaps cross her mind, she heard the door open and close.

"Ally?" Austin whispered.

It was kind of adorable because she knew him enough to hear in that one word that he was sorry, ashamed, and a little scared. And it made her feel guilty because she had overreacted. Austin had been her boy friend at one time, and they weren't exactly subtle about how much they'd missed each other before she joined the Full Moon Tour. There was also that time in her bunk two nights ago that they hadn't talked about, but Trish had definitely overheard. Surprisingly, she'd only brought it up once and was bored when she found out it was just some light making out.

Ally cleared her throat. "Austin, I'm in here."

In the next moment, the door was ajar as Austin practically leapt inside. The force of his lurch made the glass marbled shower door swing shut, knocking him into Ally as she slammed the back of her head into the wall. With the spacing equivalent slightly less than an airplane bathroom, Ally made a vain attempt to rub the surely forming bruise on her scalp. Instead, she elbowed a toiletry shelf.

"Sorry," he said. "I was trying to be dramatic or gallant or something when I jumped in here, not knock you unconscious and try to grope you." He'd had to brace himself when tumbling forward and his palms were on her upper chest/bra strap region. After momentarily pausing, he lifted them to rest against the wall on either sides of her, further showcasing his snug white v-neck. "Also, I'm sorry about what I said in front of Trish and Dez. That was a jerk move on my part."

She smiled. "It's not a big deal. I got embarrassed for no reason. I was acting like one of those tween demon fans Trish was talking about…except for the demon part…and I guess not the fan part either."

Austin puckered his lips in his perfect puppy dog pout. "You're not a fan anymore? Have you outgrown me? Moved on to Harry Styles?"

She chuckled. "Just because I pretended to be Taylor Swift once doesn't mean I'm into any of her ex-boyfriends. And not that you need to hear this or anything, but you're much cuter." She trailed a finger down his chest. "You're also not covered in tattoos."

"Very true. I'm afraid of needles, and my parents would smother me in a pile of discounted mattresses."

She let her head thud against the wall. "A pile of mattresses sounds like the best thing in the world right now."

They didn't say anything for a second, just standing there in the shower stall, listening to the start of a song she'd thought she'd heard in _Magic Mike _that made innuendoes about saddles and horses and it also sort of reminded her of those leather chaps from before.

"Think Channing Tatum is in there?" He shimmied, smirking.

She laughed and shook her head. "As fun as this is, I really want to sit down."

Somewhere in her fuzzy, wee-hour-of-the-morning logic, she decided the best way to get them out of there was to knee the door open, because her left one was pretty close to the glass and her upper body had been unintentionally pinned in by two muscled arms. Once this action had been performed, she realized the barrier between her and the door prevented her from lodging it open. That barrier was Austin's hips, where her leg was hoisted up like she was in the middle of some sort of uncoordinated ballet stretch.

He inhaled sharply. "Whoa."

She attempted to back away, but her foot found the one wet spot on the floor. On instinct, she hooked her leg around his to keep herself steady, but it only made them both knock into the wall again. Gaining some balance, she shifted her hips, only to feel his against hers, because oh yeah, she'd started this whole indecent position in the first place. But, his hand was cupping the inside of her knee, matching her shifting motion in a way that made her close her eyes. "Whoa."

He groaned. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done that. We're both super tired and kind of trapped in a shower."

She would later, during private retellings of this story between the two of them, deny she made such a bold, crass next move. She'd deny lifting her other leg to match the angle of the first or pushing into him several times until he was kissing her as her body rhythmically hit the cool surface of the wall still thrumming from the background track of a male stripper.

She gripped the back of his head as his lips found her shoulder. "This feels really good."

He sighed, moving to her collarbone. "I'm so glad you said that."

His pace seemed to quicken. She moaned. "Why?"

"I was going to ask if you wanted me to stop."

"Don't."

He's breathing was heavier. "Are you…?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Pretty close, yeah." He kissed her again.

Just a few seconds later, she was there, frozen as the feeling rained down on her like the dripping nozzle above her head. One or two more rough movements and he slumped against her, their cheeks pressed together. "There's no way I'm not sleeping like a baby now."

She sighed contentedly. "For real."

It was in that instant they realized how quiet it was. No music, no screaming, only the noises of cars and chatter in the parking lot.

She smoothed her palm up and down his arm. "How long ago do you think that song ended?"

Someone knocked on the door. "Are you guys having a dance party in there without me?" Dez's voice was high-pitched and whiny.

Austin whistled low. "I need to have a serious sit-down with that kid, like have one of those where-mattresses-come-from talks, except not mattresses."

"No, Dez. I just fell…a couple of times. We'll be out in a minute," Ally said.

"Take your time." It was Trish, sounding smug and snarky and basically very Trish. "Take your time."

Ally pecked his cheek, patting his chest as if to reassure herself. "Yep, I'm going straight to the bunks. I'm going to make no eye contact and dive right into bed."

He nodded. "Same here."


	3. Blisters & Bacon Burns

**A/N: Here's another tour bus tale, this time with slightly less sleep deprivation, but it's definitely still there. This section follows the first two and is set right after "Presidents & Problems," though there's one minor detail from "Beach Clubs & BFFs" that I included even though the timing is off, but I changed the detail so much that the timing doesn't really matter. You'll see. Thank you so much for your reviews! Please read and leave some more :D**

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Austin couldn't remember a time he'd been this tired, hungry, and embarrassingly turned on all at once. His bangs still held flecks of gristle, his swollen feet propped on a pink beaded pillow, his chest against the gauze of Ally's upper arm. Between them, on his tour bus bunk bed, his laptop played some black-and-white movie about a guy in an overcoat and a girl who liked to wear hats, and sometimes they were kissing. It was about as boring as his eight AM Algebra class last semester.

One of the few things he had paid attention to was how often the girl's facial expression changed. It only reminded him of these last two weeks on tour and the changes happening that somehow felt like whiplash and the most inevitable detour at the same time. While he didn't need a pro/con list or some serious one-on-one talk (stuff he thought she lived by), he did feel pretty messed up and one hundred percent confused when Ally was acting completely normal around Trish and Dez, but was all lips and hands and hips when they were alone. And just like the black-and-white close-up of the innocent, closed-mouth smooch of her movie, there had been no dialogue. There was no mention of their not-so-innocent shower choreography or how they slept in his bunk most nights or that lingering good luck, full-body hug she'd given him backstage in Connecticut that made him almost too excited to go on stage, especially in a stadium filled with twelve-year-old girls and their moms.

A random, tap-dancing musical number started with the two leads on a giant staircase. He felt horrible. Here was an innocent expression of joy, and he was lying next to his best friend in an empty bus in broad-nine-in-the-morning-daylight wanting to smear kisses all over her. He hadn't slept in thirty odd hours, eaten in nine, and he swore there was an almost visible haze of delicious bacon fog hovering somewhere in the general direction of her conservative pastel pajamas.

He self-consciously repositioned his arms on the bed, careful not to move the cushion from under his feet. The open blister on his heel scraped against a sequined flower, and he hissed through his teeth.

"Austin?" Ally's doe eyes were all round and worried, and it made him feel like a total wimp.

"I'm fine," he said. He pretended to focus on overcoat and hat-girl's conversation in a newsroom as they both smoked cigarettes by a window overlooking the most fake backdrop of New York City he'd ever seen.

"Are you sure? Your feet look like two slabs of raw meat."

He surveyed his blistered toes, wondering if he could ever watch _The Wizard of Oz_ again. After running around the Smithsonian, dodging tour guides, and attempting to dance for the President, those silver-not-ruby slippers had torn his feet to angry pink shreds of pain.

The blisters had even thrown off his balance, which wouldn't have been a big deal since the tour was over. But, the combination of his hobbling and Dez's midnight bacon ended in a mess of tripping bodies, flipping frying pans, and flying pig grease. And it would have been funny if the end result wasn't a first-degree burn that spanned most of Ally's left arm and reached all the way to her collarbone.

Despite the degree of the burn, which made little sense to him anyway, Austin insisted Ally go to the hospital. He carried her inside, stepping as carefully as possible because the floor was wet and he was wearing Dez's tiger paw slippers. Trish was more than happy to let him know #AustinTigerSlippers was trending on Tweeter. That wasn't really a surprise considering all of the cell phone pics taken during their four freakin' hours in the waiting room.

When they did leave with a prescription for some over-the-counter burn ointment, Dez and Trish said they wanted to walk to CVS while he and Ally rested up in the bus. That was two hours ago, and neither of them had slept at all.

Ally closed his laptop and leaned over him to place it carefully on the carpet. The ends of her hair swept across his neck. "Austin, what's wrong?"

Taking a good five seconds to decide just how stupid he was going to sound, he stared at her and sighed. "Honestly, you smell like bacon, and all I want to do is devour you."

With that as some sort of half-sensible warning, he leaned upright and pushed his face into her hair. When her fingers stroked his back and tugged at his shirt, he wondered how exactly she was taking his use of the word "devour." Bare-chested, he kissed her above the bandage, then her earlobe, then her mouth.

He hesitantly slid his hand under her tank top, stopping at her ribs when he noticed she wasn't kissing him back anymore. Opening his eyes, he could see hers were avoiding him.

"Austin…you don't think I'm a trollop, do you?"

He squinted. "Is that like a kind of cookie or pastry?" It sounded tasty.

"No. A trollop is…well…you _know_." She made a vague gesture with her hands. "A wayward woman."

He shook his head. "I'm not following."

She scrunched her mouth to the side, and whispered, "Skank."

"No! That's ridiculous. You're like the last person I'd ever call that." He fiddled with the closed curtains of his bed. "You don't think I'm like, well, like man candy, do you?"

She frowned. "Is that candy that only men eat…or a man made from candy?"

"Neither. I don't really know what man candy is. I think I meant to say bus candy."

"So," she said, lips pursed. "Are you trying to tell me you found Dez's hidden stash of Starbursts?"

He pressed his palms against his eyelids, realizing that he was lame and he did want to talk about this. "I mean…are you…are we…just having fun, and we've been so close on the bus because we're around each other all the time and my bed head is adorable?" He shot her a nervous grin. "Or is this…do you like me?"

She smacked his chest, hard. "Austin! Of course I like you. Were you not there when we had that whole everything-is-better-when-you're-around conversation? We were in Seattle? You stopped your concert three times? Trish had to pull us apart? Any of this familiar?"

He rubbed the spot on his skin and rolled his eyes. "Yes, I was there. But, we said that stuff when we were friends all the time. You know, there's no way I can make it without ya, do it without ya, be here without ya…stuff like that."

"Did you just say 'were' friends? Like were in the sense of an action or state of being occurring or existing in the past?"

This Ally sounded just like pre-tour, mostly rested Ally. Hearing her talk like a dictionary, sitting between his legs, hand casually on his thigh, was making him uncomfortably agitated again.

He coughed. "Yes, 'were friends' as in now we're not really friends, like maybe you're my girlfriend…if you want to be."

She mockingly shrugged her shoulders. "I guess so."

"Don't get too excited." He laughed.

He wasn't sure if anyone could blush as quickly as Ally, because her cheeks lit up like a clap-on lamp. Her gaze was lower than he wanted, and then the ghost-like pressure of her fingers was there, barely there, but there. "I think you're excited enough for the both of us."

He'd always thought if this ever happened with her, he'd be smooth and cool, not choking, literally choking, like a goof. Did he just call himself a goof? Was he in the third grade? He cleared his throat. "I was trying to hide that."

"That seems kind of hard." She jostled her head back and forth with a cheesy smile. "The Queen of Puns strikes again."

He would have at least chuckled, if her hand didn't press against him. She hesitated, flexed her fingers, slowly moved up, down, up, then up some more until her palm slid down past the elastic of his pajama pants.

Her eyes widened. "You are not wearing boxers. 'Are' as in the present tense describing what is happening in the present. Why?"

He grunted, trying to concentrate. "I ran out of clean ones yesterday. Dez ran out too. He suggested I go commando."

"Okay! I'll now agree whenever you say you and Dez are closer than Trish and I. Trish and I do _not _talk about stuff like that. Well, there's guy stuff, and sometimes…"

"Ally!" He knew whining was losing him cool points, but she'd been lingering on his pelvic bone for what felt like fifty-thousand minutes, and he was about to lose his mind.

"Oh, right, sorry. Back to the task at hand." She beamed. "And I thought I'd be bad at dirty talk. Here we go point A to point B."

Point B was an awesome place to be, a place he wanted to live forever, or at least until a point C was reached. Or however that lettering worked.

She was working at an extremely gentle, leisurely pace. "Is this alright? Am I hurting you?"

He bucked into her hand, moaning. "Yes, no…I mean….yes, amazing and no, not hurting. Faster would be even better."

Her grip tightened, rubbing harder. He groaned in , he noticed her expression of determination, tongue poking out of her mouth.

Seconds later, her goal was reached as he shivered and shuddered like he was locked in a walk-in freezer. A few tissues and some repositioning after that, they were lying down again.

Kissing her shoulder, his hand was creeping north when she held him by the wrist. "What's wrong?"

She chewed the corner of her mouth. "Can we pick this up later? I'm starving."

"I could eat my weight in bacon right now," he said.

She winced. "Can we not talk about the food that violently melted my skin off?"

He pulled his shirt on and gingerly stepped out of bed. "You make bacon sound like a gremlin or something. Ooh, we should make sandwiches and watch _Gremlins_!"

She brushed past him in a hurry. "Let's focus on the sandwiches first."

He could hear her opening and closing drawers from the kitchen area when his phone vibrated. He picked it up from the floor, realizing he had eight unread texts. Seven were from Dez, the first letting him know they got the ointment, and the other six describing a squirrel he watched gnaw on a huge slice of pizza by the Lincoln Memorial. Trish's was sent fifteen minutes ago, asking him to text her back when they were decent, and that subs and chips were waiting for them on the table.

He walked into the kitchen, hoping he wasn't blushing, pretty positive he was ready to go back to Miami where walls and privacy existed. And he could tell everyone that Ally was his girlfriend. Tweeter was going to explode.


End file.
